Handjobs

I find a very particular kind of pleasure in wrapping my hands around my lover’s cock.

Sometimes it is simple:  a gentle holding reach-around hug of my palm against his soft sex when he stumbles sleepily back into bed after his morning ablutions; an exploratory massaging stroke when he’s lying next to me trying to relax away the tension from his day; a clearly-telegraphed “I want you” when we’re feverishly trying to get one another undressed.

Other times, ‘simple’ doesn’t quite describe it.

There are, of course, a myriad of influences that affect any sexual interaction. But physical touch, especially in this way – a laying on of hands, if you will – is something that, in my experience, can be particularly laden with the interlacing of preconceived notions, anxieties, and expectations.  So while the mechanics of cock-stroking may not exactly be ‘complicated’, the associated feelings – both physical and emotional – are also not simple.

Handjobs can be gentle or demanding, my touch a caress or an amercement, a challenge or a demand.

Fondling him, petting and squeezing and handling (heh) him in his most physically vulnerable of places…  It is a delight in which I frequently indulge.

But stroking him – curving my fingers around his girth, sliding my thumb up over his head, brushing my palms in barely-there frictive motions along his length – while done frequently, is not something I do ‘typically’.  By that I mean it is NOT:

• a form of pre-intercourse foreplay (in fact it rarely leads to intercourse… though sometimes it follows),
• a warm-up or a just-until-we-can-__________ (fill in the blank as you please) activity,
• about his pleasure.

On the contrary, it is quite often about mine.

Because I take great pleasure in taking him in hand.

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